


I Made An Excuse (You Found Another Way To Tell The Truth)

by emlary



Category: Thai Actor RPF, พฤติการณ์ที่ตาย | Manner of Death (TV), พฤติการณ์ที่ตาย | Manner of Death (TV) RPF
Genre: Banter, Body Worship, Established Relationship, M/M, Max being EXTRAAA, Open Relationships, Stereotypes, not exactly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-20 14:54:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30006594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emlary/pseuds/emlary
Summary: Both Max and Tul have been working out relentlessly before the principal shooting of Manner of Death as they're always proud of their bodies. Then Tul has a second thought. Max takes on the mission to ensure his partner in crime everything is fine.Or a MaxTul body worshiping snippet no one asks for.
Relationships: Max Nattapol Diloknawarit/Tul Pakorn Thanasrivanitchai
Comments: 11
Kudos: 47





	I Made An Excuse (You Found Another Way To Tell The Truth)

**Author's Note:**

> Two weeks after [heartsdesire456](https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartsdesire456/pseuds/heartsdesire456) recommended MoD to me in a comment section, here am I, neck-deep in the tsunami of MaxTul. These two literally took me by storm with their unprecedented confidence and chemistry. Beta'ed by almighty [GunpowderFlaw](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GunpowderFlaw/pseuds/GunpowderFlaw). You're my hero.
> 
> Title and an *excerpt are from The Morning Benders' Excuses.

It's not rare that Tul touches his body in public. Max does it all the time to his P'Tul as well. He doesn't give a flying fuck if he's labeled _possessive_ by some poor English subtitle translations on YouTube, which has become one of their hashtags on social media following #MaxTul. PDA isn't part of fan services in their dictionary, or _kingdom_ , as some fanatics consider them the true kings of boys' love dramas. They've simply gotten comfortable with each other through years of collaboration, on- and offscreen.

It's the little frown followed that worries him as Tul withdraws the palm from his abs. Max has been working out relentlessly the last two weeks for the costume fitting and everything else for their new show starting next month. Is P'Tul not satisfied with what he just touched? Max admits this isn't his perfect beach body, and he is still struggling with the goal of 12% body fat. He may be guilty for stress eating during quarantine but who isn't? Plus most beaches have been closed since the pandemic hits. He winks at his partner, looking for approval he doesn't know he needs from Tul.

Both standing in front of a giant wall of glass outside Iconsiam, Tul studies their reflections a bit more, "Your six-pack are really solid and you look thinner." Which should be good news unless..."Shit, I need to work harder."

Max is left more confused when the older man starts calling his personal trainer with a deeper frown. They are both regulars of local gyms, always taking good care of their bodies like professional actors do. He gets it, they've been seen as a couple since entering the showbiz on day one. Yet sometimes they can get competitive, too. And their new show, a crime thriller with lots of action, also recruits other young male cast with sculpture-like bodies. No matter playing the good guy or the bad guy, who doesn't want a lean, muscular body that would look hot when they're kicking ass on screen? Thank God they've graduated from college students playing house that most BL dramas still pivot on.

Wait a minute, Tul is the most hardworking person he's ever known. Max isn't surprised that Mr. Perfect's become a gym rat before the principal shooting. In fact, he'd be proud if Tul's extra-motivated by him. But his partner seems genuinely concerned right now. And it bothers him. Anything that fails to bring a shining smile on P'Tul's face bothers him.

"What's wrong? I mean, I don't mind you doubling your workload. But dude, you look great." He spits out, staring at Tul in the wall of glass while hugging him from behind. Beneath that plain-looking designer shirt and jeans, it's a beautiful, sturdy body he's able to recognize with eyes shut. He's 6'0 and 160lb, give or take, what could possibly go wrong? Those biceps might get a bit too thick but he loves _thiccccc_. It's not only the arms, but also those ass cheeks over which he already claimed sovereignty years ago, thanks to hundreds of cruel exercises like back squats (Tul's trainer from that fancy gym would probably correct him on the terminology, _glute_ workouts, uh, that word is such a turn-off.) He's openly enjoying the contact every time he hugs Tul from behind. Weekend crowds flocking to the shopping mall can see them but who cares. He can't wait to see Tul try on some nicely fit suits and pants for his role as a forensic pathologist in their new show.

"You can't be serious, Maxi," Tul sighs, "Don't you see? I... My body looks _bigger_ than yours. I think I need to lose at least another 5lb otherwise the dynamics of our roles would be damned. Remember the table reading? Our first encounter will be me getting drunk, then stumbling into your arms at a bar. What would it look like if I were a heavy, fat ass? _We_... I'd be a joke." 

Some unsaid sentiments linger between their reflections and two warm bodies perfectly slotted together. He thought being (almost over-) confident with their bodies, and physically comfortable with each other was what made MaxTul an iconic duo in an industry obscenely obsessed with twinks. Apparently Tul's had a second thought recently, which breaks something he can't pinpoint exactly at the moment.

"What do you mean by 'the dynamics of our roles'?" Max pushes. Their relationship has thrived on being completely open with each other, both professionally and _personally_.

"Let's not have this conversation right here, okay?" Tul removes his arms. It seems their long-awaited date just ended.

Apart from work, they live two parallel lives. They hang out with different groups of friends, mingle with different social circles. At the end of the day, they turn to social media to catch up like everyone else does, oftentimes driving their fans into a frenzy with some exchange of naughty or juicy banter in the comment section. It works for both of them. They get to keep the onscreen chemistry yet each retains privacy as much as one prefers.

That's how Max ends up waiting outside Tul's gym three days later. The latest Instagram story of Tul's trainer popped up around midnight. _Busted_. Another late night workout session, really? 

It's quite easy to spot Tul's Volvo XC60 in a largely empty parking lot. Max doesn't drive because it'd be nice to have a conversation when they're left alone in one vehicle. He doesn't want to get into the production of some unresolved issue, especially with Tul. He will be falling in love, solving murders, saving the world, and having passionate sex with this guy for the next two months. Even if it's just _acting_ , he needs to get square with Tul, on whatever this is. His thoughts keep revolving the way his partner paused at _we_ when he addressed the so-called character dynamics issue the other day. Instead of _we_ , Tul concluded _only_ he would be a joke. It's weird since they are in this together. Max misses when they are on the same page for almost everything, like they can read each other's mind, like they are _one_ . He misses _we_.

Yet he lies when answering Tul's first question of the night, "Oh, I was at a party nearby. Got a few drinks then I saw you work late, thought maybe you can give me a ride, _Phi_."

"You can't get a Grab?" Tul raises one side of his eyebrow, he looks so cute when making that face. Max waves his phone languidly, "Sorry, the battery is dead." The older man growls, handsome face glowing from the sweat, "Well, It's late and I haven't taken a shower after the exercise so I probably stink. Hop in, if you insist."

When will Tul Pakorn ever come around to the idea he's unlawfully sexy in every sense? Like last year he didn't shave or shower for a whole week before he took the GMAT, Max still found him smoking hot with his nerdy glasses and overgrown hair. That's how easily he gets distracted around Tul all the time, the _senpai_ he's had a crush on since sophomore year.

Alright, they need to talk.

"You didn't have a drop tonight." Tul turns to him once they're both in the car, doors closed. With their noses nearly touching, he smells sweat, Lemon-Lime Gatorade, and some pent-up tension between them. "No, I didn't." He clears his throat, trying to figure out how to bring up the topic. It's eerily quiet in the car since Tul doesn't turn on the radio or Bluetooth to play his Spotify playlist.

"It's not like you. Just say it." Tul speaks with his eyes on the road. They've known each other too well to fake any courtesy. And usually he's the one who won't stop talking. He's had several leads regarding what Tul referred to that day, and wanted to clear them up. But he remembers how discouraged Tul looked then.

"Is this about the other day?" His partner throws him a quick glance as he nods. He's so relieved Tul's still able to read his mind. "Look," Tul continues, "It's nothing, really."

"You're freaking out, it's _not_ nothing. You don't freak out, not when you ran your first marathon, or when you decided to apply for graduate schools four years out of college and got accepted by both UC Berkeley and Columbia." He grumbles, despite knowing it's not helping at all.

"Good. At least you're talking." Tul snorts, a faint smile emerging around the corner of his rosy lips. After another sigh, he continues in a low tone, "I know this sounds stupid. It's a tacit understanding that one should look, I don't know, _smaller, paler_ , _inferior_ , to another between any onscreen BL couple. The top/bottom principle, or whatever. We're of the same height, and I think I've gained more weight than you have during quarantine. It won't be a good look, particularly when we get intimate on the screen. And there's a lot in this one."

"That's absurd. Your body is perfect." He argues. Yes, he's been aware of this top/bottom _slash_ thing. Some scripts they did before made it crystal clear about who's who, and he's always designated to play the dominant one, which left Tul being the submissive one. They were praised for being perfectly compatible, the "aggressive wolf" top!Max and the seductive bottom!Tul with boyish charm.

"Yet that's what the audience digs. Ratings hurt if it doesn't appear visually in certain ways." Tul counters, "It's on me. And I'm working on it." Sometimes he can't believe this perfectionist partner of his is even real.

"Don't worry. We should be good to go when the principal shooting kicks off." Tul concludes. So it's about _we_ , which hits Max hard that all the anxiety Tul’s worn is because of _them_ . His partner has been worried about not making _them_ look good because they've been a bundle deal from the beginning. The production company always casts them as a couple, variety shows always invite them both, magazine cover shoots always feature them both, and sponsorships always come for them both. Him failing to meet the "criteria" would consequently affect Max's career. That's what this is really about. P'Tul has been stressed out because Mr. Perfect strives for flawlessness not for himself, but for the success of them both.

The sleepless city outside seems to be put on mute compared to the roaring beats in Max's ears. Affection and anger are pumping out of his heart at the same time. He wants to scream. They've worked hard for nearly six years to get where they are today. They've both grown up, weathering through highs and lows (and bullshits) together. The new show is what both of them think is the best material they've landed, a rather sophisticated thriller featuring mature characters in their early 30s, a potential game changer within the niche market of BL dramas. For the first time ever, they're going to disrupt the industry, break stereotypes and set new rules if everything works out, as opposed to being followers. He remembers the call from Tul when they first received the script, who was equally excited because the two leading characters are multi-layered, and their romance is less cheesy, a totally normalized gay couple, blending well with the main arc of murder solving. Finally they've got the roles that fit them perfectly as they're grown ass men now. 

Who'd have thought in the end P'Tul needs to worry about if he looks fucking _small_ in Max's arms to feed the audience? Catering to BL fantasies is one thing, in his opinion they're also on a mission to annihilate toxic masculinity by playing two normal guys who are capable of all things _men_ are capable of, at the same time showing affections and respect to each other. Fuck the binary top/bottom stereotypes, fuck gender norms (If this doesn't go back to gender, then what is this about?), fuck everything.

"Maxi, are you listening?" Tul sounds calm, like they are talking about the weather.

Max is not really sure who he's angry with. "Would you like to find a girlfriend that looks _smaller, paler_ , _inferior_ to you? Is that what you're looking for?" He snaps, which he immediately regrets. He shouldn't have taken it out on Tul, yet rage gets the best of him.

The overt hostility is piercing through the silence between them. He must have hit a nerve since personal relationships are off-limits. It's like an unspoken rule between them despite the countless hookups they've had. Tul gives him a silent look, then signs again.

He only manages to send a message after Tul drives him home then leaves, "Sorry, I lashed out." It remains _seen_ without any reply throughout the night.

Still rattled by their conversation (mainly his own recklessness) last night, Max can't concentrate on any work. Being on a strict diet kind of makes things worse. He gets this craving for sweets as memories flashback to another date earlier with Tul when they shared a full plate of ice cream scoops of various flavors. It was their cheat day. It's awfully satisfying that he thought workouts and six-pack could wait. Then they shared something else, a secret kiss in the parking lot, when they argued who had the last bite. Of course P'Tul was guilty because he tasted like caramel chocolate, Max's favorite. He devoured the remaining sweets, leaving his partner in crime lips swollen.

He almost drops his phone when a message with Tul's name pops up. His partner asks if he wants to go through the logistics for the taping of an upcoming variety show. It's good they're talking, even if it's just work stuff.

"Okay, I'm already on my way to your place. See you in 30." Tul replies like they didn't just have a fight. It is Max who should drag his asses to Tul to apologize first. But no time for a panic attack right now. Max tidies up his room then stands by the door anxiously, waiting. 

Tul's wearing a pastel blue shirt with a few damp spots in front. After handing Max a plastic bag, he quickly unfastens three buttons at once, "I stopped by at my sister's to get these, they just returned from Chiang Mai. It's scorching outside today."

He's seen every inch of Tul's body yet an overwhelming surge of guilt and lust hits him. "I've been a dick and you still bring me lychees." He keeps his head down, face burning despite the AC's been on all day. If he's been completely honest with himself, he enjoys acting out (nothing harmful indeed) once in a while because he knows P'Tul will always be there, cursing "spoiled little brat" with a knowing smile on his face.

"You can keep moping. I need a quick shower though." Tul smirks, casually taking off his shirt. They both have spare towels, flip flops and toothbrushes for each other at their own places. Because sometimes they stay up late running lines together, other times they just Netflix and chill. Once they flossed together after sex in the shower, Max never felt so old in his life. Yet it's comforting, and relaxing.

He eats half of the fresh lychees. They are so sweet, driving his blood sugar to a high where he feels a jolt of energy. He needs to get it out.

"Max, you're running out of deodorant." Tul's calling him from the bathroom, towel wrapped around his narrow waist. "Sorry." He replies.

"It's alright. I'll just leave it like this for now, then..." Tul doesn't get to finish it because Max suddenly moves forward to embrace his half-naked body. P'Tul smells like his shower gel, and his wettest dream. Max takes a deep breath, "No, I mean I'm sorry. For everything." 

Tul just pats him on the shoulder, hands warm.

"I hated it. It's unfair. I knew it's not your fault, and I didn't know whose fault it was. I wasn't thinking straight. I'm so sorry." His voice is soft, almost purring, "You're not mad at me, _Phi_?"

"No," The older man pulls his head up then looks right into his eyes, "I know you didn't mean it." 

He leans in again, pushing Tul to sit on the bathroom sink, "What should we do then?" His lips start tracing Tul's jawline. This isn't enough. He wants to let the man know his body is absolutely beautiful. "I don't know, focus on the script. The story is quite compelling, if we stay true to it, I don't think people will spend much time debating the top/bottom _stigma_. Maxi, what are you doing?" Tul can go on giving a presentation about LGBTQ+ rights while he's mapping his body inch by inch with soft kisses. He likes licking his earlobes and seeing them turn pink within seconds. And before reaching the small dip between his neck, he pauses. Tul's already stretching his long neck, swallowing in anticipation.

"Where do you want me to _go_ next?" He teases. The bobbing Adam's apple is so inviting. He gives it a gentle kiss while cupping Tul's jaw. The neck muscle under his touch is nicely stretched, "So strong, so beautiful." He whispers. 

"It's called sternocleidomastoid or _scm_ for short." Tul hisses. What a nerd. He must be studying all the terminology of anatomy for his new role as a doctor. "No, it's called Doctor Tullie's sexy neck muscle." He insists. Tul just chuckles, making the cutest sounds in the world. He _fucking_ loves it.

The trip down south continues. And he decides to take a little detour. "Not there, Maxi..." He can tell Tul's actually enjoying it from his heavier breath. "Why not?" He hums, face burying in his partner's hairy armpit. "It's gross." Tul protests faintly.

"First of all, every single bit of Doctor Tullie's body is gorgeous; secondly, you need to watch more porn, seriously." He explains. "Says the guy who owns a Pornhub t-shirt." Tul tugs his hair, forcing him to meet his playful grin.

"Proudly." He claims, then returns to the newfound wonderland of Tul's body. He's glad he runs out of the deodorant. The scent is natural and healthy. And Tul's obviously hypersensitive, chest waggling up and down as he's doing the job with his tongue.

He's approaching Tul's flat tummy after he's done nipping the two little buds. "Wait," Tul reaches out to remove his shirt, caressing his body, "I was kind of jealous. You can pull a full six-pack in two weeks. I get what? Four-pack? You're amazing, Maxi." Much as he gets smitten over the compliment from P'Tul, he's on a different crusade today. How could a man like Tul think any less of himself?

He stands up, pressing their bodies tight together. Then he begins to roll his hips in a painfully slow manner. The angle is awkward but their lower abdomens are rubbing against each other. "What the hell are you doing?" Tul rolls his eyes.

"I don't know. I just find your abs very hot, I might get pregnant from just rubbing it, Mr. Pakorn Thanasrivanitchai." He claims with heart eyes.

"Oh, my God. Your joke is rubbish." Tul cracks up hysterically. "You laugh anyway." He tilts his head, looking at the strongly built man in his arms with a mischievous grin.

The towel is on the edge of falling open from all their careless actions. The older man grabs his hand. For a second, Max thinks Tul's going to make him stop. Then his hand is led to the loose hem of the towel. "It seems you really want to taste me today." Tul's voice is extra tempting as he widens his legs.

"More than that. I want to tape my tongue to the southern tip of your body*." He gives Tul a little nudge between his legs. "Promise me you won't say that on live television." Tul is palming his face.

"Okay, if you want to keep it to yourself." He winks before going down on his knees. 

After what must be a hundred pecks around his belly button, Max finally reaches down there, tentatively licking around the girthy trunk like a lollipop. "This is torture." Tul bites his lower lips, whining, already half-hard. _Oh, God. He looks so fucking turned-on._

He takes him in smoothly. They know each other's bodies like open books. He knows where and how exactly Tul likes to be touched, with his tongue, fingers or something else. He always wants him to feel good. That's what sex is about, to please each other, both receiving and giving.

They start picking up the pace. Max adjusts his moves to match Tul's hasty thrusts, letting the man fuck his mouth deeper. "Fuck, no wonder all the variety show directors ask you to eat Cornetto for their programs. Your mouth..." Tul lets out some sweet little noise. 

"Try another analogy, _baby_ . You know cornetto means little horn in Italian, right?" Max pulls back a little, then goes all in once again, enveloping his cock. "Cheeky," His partner grabs his hair, " _Ohh_ , Maxi..." Tul moaning his name like he's oxygen is the sexiest thing he's ever heard.

They eventually finish each other off in the shower because it's more convenient. Tul rests on his shoulders, still breathless from the afterglow, "You know there's a shower sex scene in the novel the show's adapted from. Wonder if they're gonna show our butts this time." He squints, "Really? That's what you're worried about?"

"No, I don't mind showing my asses at all. That's what people do when they have sex. Don't you find it unrealistic we both woke up with boxers in the opening scene of Together With Me? It's supposed to be the morning after we, I mean, our characters, had sex, drunk and messy." Tul being dead serious about filming sex scenes is oddly hot.

"Okay, smartass, I'll go down the rabbit hole with you." Max fondly smacks him on the bottom, still bouncy as fuck.

"Partners in crime?"

"Fuck yeah!"


End file.
